


Sorrow Enough To Drown The World

by gestaltrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angels, Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, Dark, Evil Sam Winchester, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/pseuds/gestaltrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is broken by all he has done.  Dean shows up to try and save him.  Will Sam let him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorrow Enough To Drown The World

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the wonderful vid maker lj user absrip and her fan vid [Snow on the Sahara](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yQ9ZFLZZ54) that she posted in November of '08.

Sam watched the world burn. He was responsible but he’d only done it after the angels had taken Dean from him.

Dean and Sam had talked that one time, after Anna, about hell and what Dean had done and how much guilt he felt. There had been nothing that Sam could say that could make it better. Dean was right. No matter that Anna, an angel of a sort, had told him he needed to forgive himself.

Vowing there, that Dean would never go back to hell as long as Sam lived, he felt his arms tremble with the need to comfort Dean. Comfort that would be rejected, he knew.

Castiel had threatened Dean with hell before, telling him that as an angel of God he had pulled him out and he could throw him back in. So when Dean disappeared after a long argument with God’s chosen, Sam assumed that they had done as threatened.

Sam went quietly insane. Piece by piece he lost himself. Knowing what Dean was going through and being unable to stop it, to save him. Ruby was there, she saw the first cracks in Sam Winchester but he fooled even her on just how crazy he’d become.

At first he settled for destroying every demon he came across. Finding that the pain in his head lessened the more he enjoyed destroying them, he changed. Over time, because it took time, because bloody Lilith was forever one step ahead of him and Ruby, Sam found that destroying spirits and all of the things he and Dean hunted gave him power. He had more power to exorcise more powerful demons.

Losing track of everything, days and weeks blended together to form a river of blood. The world in his rearview mirror was all smoke and ashes but he didn’t care, always searching for Lilith. Ruby tried to talk to his humanity but unlike Ruby, unlike Dean, Sam wasn’t strong enough to resist. He left her body lying on the ground next to a small blonde child whom she had insisted wasn’t Lilith. Sam hadn’t cared.

Then he accidentally killed a host and found that he was near to bursting with power. Uriel had confronted him. Sam, crazy with the thought of Dean in hell that this angel had a part of putting him back, used his power and killed the angel the same way he took care of the demons. The backlash of power nearly killed him.

Confronting Lilith finally, his eyes glowing yellow, Sam laughed as she told him he’d come a long way. He raised his hand and faced her for the last time with only a few seals still whole. Once the light had faded from her eyes and her demon spirit was gone, torn apart and dispersed across hell Sam collapsed.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean’s voice woke him.

Sitting up, Sam was wide awake. _Dean_. Sam frantically looked around for his brother. Dean was sitting beside him on the bed. Why was Dean here? Sam remembered something about Dean being gone.

“I’m here, I’m real,” Dean told him.

Sam wanted to believe him but some part of his mind insisted that this wasn’t real, Dean wasn’t real.

“You’re safe now,” Dean said quietly running his fingers across Sam’s forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way. Sam hadn’t cut his hair in ages. “You did it. You stopped her from letting him out.”

Stopped who? Why couldn’t he remember?

“Don’t worry,” Dean spoke as he smoothed the frown lines from Sam’s forehead. “I’ve got you.

Sam got it finally. Dean, the one he kept safe as he could, tucked inside his head was talking to him. Okay.

“Hush,” Dean said and Sam wondered if he was talking out loud, making it seem like Dean was actually here with him. No matter how much he hoped, he knew Dean wasn’t real. The way his imaginary Dean was holding his hand comforted Sam. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Sam wondered if Dean was going to be there when he woke up. Giving up, he closed his eyes and slept.

Waking up screaming, Dean’s name on his lips, Sam was confused. Dean was there brushing back his terror dampened hair. There was something wrong. Dean was dead, Sam remembered that much.

Sam stood up. Seeing Dean hurt him, he wondered why he would imagine something that hurt him. Ignoring the vision, he headed for a bathroom. Dean followed him. Sam pissed and then took a look in the mirror.

He could see splatters of black dried across his face. Reaching up to touch one, he saw the same stuff on his hand. Wondering what they were, Sam scratched at them.

Reddish black flakes from his hand fell off into the sink, turning red as he hit the moisture in it.

Not seeing the black caked under his nails, he kept scratching at the spots. “Sammy,” his imaginary Dean said. He sounded sad. Sam cocked his head, looking at the vision of his brother in the mirror.

“Are you a ghost?” Sam asked. He’d never been able to find Dean’s body.

“No,” his Dean said.

“Okay,” he responded and headed back out into the room. He picked up his bag that he didn’t remember bringing in, but he had lots and lots of blank spots in his memory. What was one more?

Getting into the Impala, Sam waited for his Dean to get into the passenger side before asking, “Where to?”

“Maybe I had better drive,” Dean suggested. He sounded so serious that Sam stopped a laugh.

“You can’t drive,” Sam said, putting the key into the ignition and firing it up. He had pulled out on the road and was driving for a while before he noticed the sunlight.

Something was wrong with the light; it was almost as if the world were bathed in a red light. Smelling smoke in the air he looked around for a fire.

Stopped at an intersection, his eyes skipped over of the charred remains of a church right in front of him. He didn’t see the small arm sticking out of the rubble. “Do you smell that?” He decided to talk to his imaginary Dean. It was better than talking to himself. “Something’s burning,” he said.

Sam glanced over at Dean who was staring at him with his mouth open, he shut it with a snap. Sam turned after Dean did, his eyes once again skittering across the rubble and smoking ruins that surrounded them.

“What have they done to you?” Dean asked. Sam almost asked who Dean was talking about but he decided he didn’t want to know.

Discovering that Dean was pretty determined to prove he was real, Sam found himself humoring him as they drove on the highway. Because even his imaginary Dean was tremendously stubborn, reaching out, Dean touched him. Sam nodded. Then Dean jerked on the steering wheel. Sam pulled over and turned to yell at him for endangering the Impala.

Slipping over, Dean surprised the hell out of him as he pressed Sam against the door and kissed him. Sam responded, kissing Dean back then he remembered, Dean wasn’t here, he was dead. Sam broke the kiss off and pushed Dean back. “No, not again,” he said.

“What?” his Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and turned to pull back on the road. He had somewhere he was supposed to be, and Dean or no Dean, he was going there. Driving, Sam pretty much ignored Dean, pulling into an abandoned gas station, Sam made sure there was power and then he gassed up the car. Grabbing some food from inside he wondered for a moment where everyone was. He shook his head, trying to clear out some cobwebs and stepped back outside.

Finding his Dean talking with Castiel surprised him. He felt a deep fear that the angel was going to take away even his imaginary Dean.

“No!” Sam yelled, running over to the car and stepping between them. “You can’t have him,” Sam yelled as he held his hand out, he knew now how to take care of an angel.

“No Sam,” his Dean said as he pushed Sam’s hand down. “Do you see? What the hell happened to him? You said he needed to do this alone but he’s all messed up. He did it! He stopped Lilith but he’s broken. Damn it, you need to fix him.”

Imaginary Castiel looked sadly at Sam and he wondered why. “Dean,” Castiel spoke to Dean, “he’s forgotten. The only way I can ‘fix him’ as you say, is to give him back his memories. People forget things for a reason.”

“He doesn’t believe I’m real! He probably thinks he's imagining this whole conversation. This is **not** my brother. He’s strong enough, he’ll be okay, I’ll help him.”

Sam watched with a bemused smile on his face as his Dean argued with Castiel. Castiel turned to him with such sadness in his eyes that Sam for a moment almost though he was real. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Sam,” Castiel said as he touched Sam’s forehead.

“Remember,” a voice whispered in his mind and Sam was overwhelmed with memories. He couldn’t deal with them, he didn’t want to face them so he did the only thing he could, and passed out.

He woke up slowly, feeling like he was swimming upwards and he couldn’t breathe. Gasping, he sat up finding himself in the backseat of the Impala. His eyes locked on Dean. _Dean_. Then he remembered everything. He whimpered as the memories assailed him. Dean pulled the car over and got out. Sam sat staring straight ahead.

He remembered. _He remembered_. Death after death rolled in front of his eyes. He flinched as he remembered laughing, taking pleasure in the destruction of the world.

Sam leaned over and threw up. His stomach rolling with the memories, thought there was nothing on his stomach he puked bile onto the floorboards. Dean stood outside the car for a moment then after he opened the back door all he did was wait for Sam to finish. Sam wasn’t sure if he would ever eat again, the smell of blood and ashes in his nose, in his memories. Looking out the open door past Dean all he saw was corn fields, no smoke stained the sky. Slowly, Sam raised his eyes to meet his brother’s.

He couldn’t let Dean see just how evil he was. He pushed and shoved the memories down until they were just out of sight. “It wasn’t a dream,” Sam said quietly.

“No.”

Running a shaking hand through his hair he took a deep breath. How the hell was he supposed to live with this? He got out of the car, and Dean handed him a bottle of water. Sam stared at it while Dean cleaned out the back seat. Finally he rinsed his mouth out, spitting on the side of the road, his stomach rebelling at even the thought of water.

“Talk to me,” Dean said.

“I thought I’d imagined you,” Sam told him.

“I know,” Dean said.

Tears filled his eyes. Dean was here. _Dean was here._ “How long?”

“What?”

“How long do I have you this time? Until they jerk you back to hell or wherever."

“No. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” Dean seemed so earnest that Sam almost believed him. “I told them it was a fucked up plan, but they said it was for the greater good.”

“I murdered people, Dean. How the hell is that for the greater good?” Sam sat down in the back seat, his legs out the door.

“You stopped Lilith before she could set Lucifer free out in the world."

The body of a small child flashed before Sam’s eyes. He looked up at Dean. “I killed innocent people.”

“The angels were ready to wipe an entire city off of the map.”

“Well, I did that for them,” Sam snapped remembering standing among the ruins of a city, all smoke and rubble around him. “I remember them all,” Sam told him. The ends do not justify the means, Sam thought but didn’t say.

“What else do you remember?” Dean asked leaning closer, his hand on Sam’s cheek.

Sam lifted his face wondering what Dean was doing. His eyes searched Dean’s for an ounce of condemnation but all he saw was love. Dean leaned closer and brushed his lips against Sam’s. Pulling back, he looked at Sam again. Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean’s head and pulled him back in. Kissing hot and wet, his lips moving across Dean’s, claiming him, letting himself be claimed in return.

He pushed Dean back, grabbing his shirt he stripped it off, and Dean followed suit. They came back together, their hands rough against each other. Dean reached down and unbuttoned Sam’s jeans, zipping them down he pushed his hand inside and cupped Sam’s erection through the cloth of his underwear. Sam moaned.

Maybe it would be okay to just forget for a little while. He lifted his hips and shoved at his jeans, Dean pulled them and his underwear off and undid his own jeans, pushing them down. Dean’s cock sprang free and Sam couldn’t stop from reaching out to touch it. Growing harder under Sam’s hand, it was soon leaking pre-come and Sam brought his hand to his mouth to taste.

He could focus on this. The flavor burst on his tongue as he licked his fingers. Dean groaned and pushed his hard cock against Sam’s. Pushing Sam down onto the backseat, Dean leaned over him. Dean had one leg on the floor and his other on the seat, Sam’s leg stretched out as much as he could, his foot on the door, his leg bent slightly. They barely fit but Sam didn’t care as he arched up against his brother.

Leaning down, Dean kissed him - slow and gentle this time - soothing Sam. Sam held Dean against him, rocking slowly upwards. “Lube?” he asked.

Dean looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“Lube?” Sam asked again, wondering if Dean really didn’t want to do this after all. The words seemed to penetrate Dean’s head as he leaned down and fished underneath his seat. Pulling out the small bottle he smiled in triumph.

“You’ve got lube underneath your seat?”

“Never hurts to be prepared,” Dean told him and flipped the lid open with his thumb. “You sure, Sammy?” Dean asked before he squirted the lube onto his hand.

“Please,” Sam would beg and plead for this if Dean wanted. “Please,” he said again, his voice almost breaking.

“Shhh,” Dean hushed him. He ran a finger through the goop in his hand before bringing it down to Sam’s tight hole. Sam lifted his leg up to give Dean more access to him and both of them moaned as Dean pushed in a finger. Fucking Sam with one finger and then two, Sam could feel the burn and stretch, it had been too long.

Dean withdrew his fingers running them through the lube in his palm again and added a third. Sam moaned as Dean pressed all three in, stretching him wide.

“God Sam, so tight,” Dean murmured as he pressed his fingers into Sam. Lifting his hips, Sam moaned and started begging.

“Please,” he whispered. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

Dean sat up as much as he could, lubing up his cock before he leaned over Sam and with one hand guiding him he slowly pushed in. Slow and steady he didn’t stop until he was in completely. Sam knew he was waiting for him to adjust to having Dean’s big dick in his ass but Sam wanted to feel, so he urged Dean to move.

One hand on the back of the front seat and the other beside Sam’s head, Dean started to fuck Sam in earnest. Sam pushed up to meet Dean as best he could. It was hurried, because neither one of them was waiting. Sam fisted his cock and Dean plunged into him. “Fuck,” one of them said and Sam couldn’t be sure who.

He came, his ass clenching around Dean’s cock in it as he spurted hot come between them, most of it landing on his stomach and chest. Dean hissed his name and fucked him harder until he stopped, his cock pulsing in Sam’s hot hole.

Sam lay there, Dean collapsed on top of him, one hand carding through Dean’s hair and he didn’t think. It was wonderful for as long as it lasted. He closed his eyes and saw death and destruction; with a gasp he opened them again. Dean lifted his head and looked at Sam. “Okay?” he asked.

Sam nodded. He was lying but Dean didn’t need to be burdened with Sam’s issues, with Sam’s guilt. Dean hummed and laid his head back down on Sam’s chest, his softened dick sliding out of Sam’s ass. Feeling a twinge of guilt for lying so easily to Dean, Sam ran his hand through Dean’s short hair. Dean hummed again and Sam kept doing it.

Finally, Dean sat up and Sam felt the loss of everything just roll over him again. He looked down, knowing what Dean would see in his eyes. Dean joked or tried to, getting out and they both cleaned up in uncomfortable silence. Getting behind the wheel, Dean watched as Sam slid into the passenger’s seat.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked after a while.

“Bobby’s cabin in Montana,” Dean replied.

Sam turned the words over and over in his mind. He knew they should make sense but they didn’t. “What?”

“Bobby’s cabin in Montana. We could hide out there for a while.”

Once again Sam struggled to find meaning in Dean’s words. “Why?”

“Because every hunter still alive is gunning for you. It’ll be safer there.”

“Still alive?” Sam asked feeling like a broken record.

“Well, the ones that hadn’t already come after you,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

Sam was quiet for a long while, staring at his reflection in the window. His mind was opposite, racing from thought to thought, memory to memory. Who had he killed? With horror, he remembered Ellen putting a gun to her head, the same as the time in the cemetery when they had gone to try to keep the devil’s gate from opening. Only this time, she pulled the trigger and blood had misted his face. Sam remembered licking his lips and enjoying the taste of Ellen’s blood.

He gagged and retched a little. Enough that Dean was pulling the car over again. “It’s okay. No one knows about Bobby’s place, you’ll be safe.”

Dean thought he was worried. Sam would have laughed if the taste of Ellen still hadn’t been there on the back of his tongue. Bobby’s face floated in front of his eyes, he was on his knees, pleading with Sam to stop but Sam hadn’t stopped and Bobby was just another body in a line of many that he had left scattered behind him. “Bobby’s dead,” he finally gasped out, still trying to keep his body from throwing up his stomach.

Dean didn’t understand or maybe he didn’t want to. “Well, then nobody really knows where the cabin is.”

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It hit him that if he was dead then no one would be after Dean. He could be safe. Nodding, Sam took a small sip of water. He just had to convince Dean to stop at the next motel and then Sam could take care of everything. Feeling calm settle on him, he managed to give Dean a small smile.

“I’m tired, sorry,” Sam murmured just loud enough for Dean to hear. Lowering his eyes he listened as Dean shifted in the seat.

“Okay,” Dean said, “we’ll stop the next place I see.”

Relief flowed over Sam and he sat back. Everything would be okay, he could make it right. While Dean drove Sam cataloged every death he could remember. Trying not to flinch at the young ones, Sam didn’t have names for most of them, just faces. He could feel the evil in his soul, the taint that he carried with him and he knew what he was going to do was for the best.

Dean wouldn’t become polluted, or hunted. Dean was slowing down, the rumble of the car changed under him. Looking around Sam saw a motel and Dean turned into the drive. There was no one there, just like there had been no one anywhere. Dean grabbed a key and then got Sam.

The room was dark and cool. It took but a few moments to convince Dean to go out and find them some food. Electricity was still on so even if there was no one around there was a good chance that there was some food that was still good. Dean left and Sam pounced on his bag, digging though it until he came across some silver knives, sharp enough to shave with.

Sam pulled one out and tested it on his thumb the small slice filling quickly with blood. He knew he had some time but not enough before Dean came back. Getting out a piece of paper, Sam scribbled a note to Dean. Saying he was sorry and that Dean would be safe now, he left it unsigned and put it on Dean’s pillow.

Walking down the hall he picked a room at random and jimmied the lock. Sam headed for the bathroom, standing with the cool tile under his feet he filled the tub. Stripping down he laid the knife on the edge of the tub and then got in. Taking a deep breath he let go of the tight grip he had of his memories and they rolled over him. His hand shook as he lifted the knife to cut his wrist, even though it hurt he managed to hold it and cut his other one too.

Death after death flashed before him as he lowered his arms into the water, staining it pink almost immediately. Tears tricked down his cheeks as he killed and destroyed, without pity or mercy, without conscious. His mind sought out the children mostly, lingering on how much innocents he had destroyed. He sobbed as he remembered Ruby standing in front of a small child.

“Come on Sam,” she said. “It’s not her. It’s not Lilith. You don’t want to do this.”

“But you’re wrong.” Sam could see the yellow in his eyes reflected in Ruby’s wide ones. “I do.” He had butchered that poor girl and turned on Ruby when she tried to stop him, sending her back to hell. Looking down, Sam saw through his tears that the tub was turning as red as the blood that he had sown far and wide behind him. He had fought so hard to stay alive, to stay human after the first time that Dean had gone to hell that he hadn’t had any fight left in him when they had taken him, and Sam had thought that he had went back there. Back to the pit. Back to Alistair and his knives.

That wasn’t where Dean had gone but Sam’s soul had more death and sin and darkness on it that Dean’s ever could. Even if he had tortured evil souls for a thousand years, Sam’s hands would still be coated with the blood of innocent people. Nothing he could do would change that, nothing could make it right. He shivered and turned the hot water on, warming his bath. Tired, he was so tired. He wondered if his blood would contaminate everything, just like he had. Evil blood, evil soul, he had enjoyed the death and destruction and that was perhaps the worst memory of all. Laying his head back against the wall, Sam vaguely heard Dean yelling and pounding on doors but he was too tired to care. He just wanted Dean to be safe and for all of this to be over.

Sam woke slowly, layer by layer. He was still alive, he sighed in disappointment as he realized it. Dean must have found him. He felt a weight around his stomach and then Dean breathed against his neck. Taking a deep breath in, Sam steeled himself against Dean’s reaction and turned to face him. He lay there, his eyes open and focused on Sam. They held no anger that he could see, no condemnation like they should.

Reaching out Dean touched his face, running his hand up the stubble on Sam’s cheek, he cupped his face. Sam let his eyes flutter shut. He had failed, even at this he had failed. He couldn’t keep Dean safe. “You told Castiel I was strong enough. I’m not.”

“You are,” Dean said as if trying to convince him of the truth. “It wasn’t you that did those things.”

“Yes it was. You don’t see how much of a danger I am to you. Is there anyone still alive out there?”

“Millions of them. Billions possibly. All because of you. You stopped Lilith from letting Lucifer loose on earth. None of them would have survived that. You saved us Sam. It was never me. I was brought back because of you. You did evil things, I’ve done evil things. Let me help you though this,” Dean said quietly still looking into Sam’s eyes.

“I’m tainted,” Sam spoke into the silence that followed Dean’s words. “I’m a danger to you. You’d be safer with me gone.”

“Maybe,” Dean surprised Sam by admitting. “But I can’t do this alone. You always were so much stronger than me. I can’t. I won’t. Do you hear me?” He stopped talking and swallowed.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned into Dean’s hand on his face, taking comfort for the moment. Could he go on? He sighed.

“Let me help you,” Dean said.

“How, Dean? You want me to tell you about everyone I’ve killed? About our friends I murdered? How about the kids? You want a blow by blow of how I killed my first kid? Or fiftieth? What do you want from me, Dean? I. . .can’t,” he started to hyperventilate.

Dean’s hands fluttered around him like butterflies as he struggled for control. A cup rattled off the bedside table as he struggled for breath shattering as it hit, pieces scattering across the floor. “Sam,” Dean was in his face, “breathe.”

Sam tried but he couldn’t get anything under control. Dean slapped him as the TV set blew up. It was as if he was flying apart there was no center to hold on to. He could feel Dean screaming against his side but he couldn’t hear him. Castiel was there and Sam covered his ears but he couldn’t drown out the roaring that dragged him down into darkness.

“Are you sure you want to try this?” Castiel asked Dean.

“I would die for him, I sure the hell would do this,” Dean said.

“He might not appreciate your sacrifice,” Castiel spoke again.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t let Dean do anything stupid.

“He’s awake,” Castiel told Dean. Sam felt their gazes rest on him. He sat up or tried to. Dean was there easing him back into bed.

“You lost a lot of blood and then. . .” Dean paused and looked at Castiel, “with what happened afterwards, you wore yourself out. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Sam licked his lips trying to get some moisture in his mouth. “I think he wants a drink,” Castiel said from across the room. Dean held a cup up with a straw in it. Sam sucked the cool sweet water into his mouth. Finally he had enough and tried to speak.

“No,” he said looking at Dean. Dean stared back at him, confusion written on his face. “Whatever you were going to do...” Sam waved his hand in Castiel’s direction.

“We’re not even sure it'll work,” Dean said. “Cas thinks there might be a way to affect your memory, our memory,” he corrected after Castiel coughed. “A way to share them."

Dean got out before Sam was shaking his head. “Before you say no,” Dean spoke quickly, “you get to share mine too.”

That made Sam pause. Dean had barely spoken of what he’d done in hell. It had driven a rift between them that Sam had always regretted. Sam wasn’t functioning under the load of guilt he had on his shoulders, he knew that. Could he share that with Dean? He lifted his eyes to look at the angel across the room. Wondering if Castiel though that this would help, Sam asked.

“Maybe,” the Angel said. “Dean’s got some good points and you aren’t coping well,” he said as his eyes flicked to Sam’s wrists. Sam wanted to hide his arms underneath the covers but he didn’t, it just proved his point. He was too weak.

“What if I just drag him down with me? Can you stop it or break it or whatever?” Sam couldn’t believe he was considering it.

“Yes, Sam,” Castiel looked him in the face, “I can.”

Sam nodded, “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too,” Castiel replied. “We asked so much of all of you, but you most of all. Do you want to try this?”

Sam paused for a long moment before agreeing. Dean had just stood back and waited for the two of them to work it out. “When?” He asked.

“It is fairly easy to do but I need to ask another of my brethren to assist. A day maybe?”

Dean and him talked about what would be needed and Sam, still exhausted slipped back into sleep. Waking up some time later, Sam was confused. Then he heard the steady beat of Dean’s heart under his ear and Sam snuggled closer, feeling Dean’s arms tighten around him.

Sam stood inside concentric circles of salt and something else, something angelic he guessed. Castiel had made Sam and Dean stand together and he drew designs around them. It was Anna or the angel that used to be Anna who had agreed to help. She spoke with Dean and then with Sam making sure that they were going into this with full knowledge of all the hazards as well as the possible benefits.

Dean had gone pale when he realized who Castiel had brought to help him. Now, Dean stood beside Sam, his hand holding tight to his brother’s. They were going to do this. Castiel and Anna had made it clear that this would change them, they would have each other’s strengths as well as weaknesses. If, and it was an if, they could support each other, they would both be stronger, more able to carry the burdens they had.

“Why?” Sam asked Castiel as he drew lines of holy salt around them. Castiel had just cocked his head in question. “Why all this to help me? I am damned for certain.”

“No one is so far gone in darkness that they cannot see the light. Sam, we needed your darkness to save God’s creation but we counted on you being able to find the light again. I am just trying to light your way, you might say.”

Sam stood and turned Castiel’s words over and over in his head. “You feel guilty?”

Castiel shook his head. “Responsible,” he said and then he looked at Anna and nodded. They chanted in a language Sam had never heard before. Circling one way then another before the final invocation the lines of salt burst into flames.

Dean tightened his grip on Sam’s hand and as the angels stopped chanting they turned to face each other. Sam felt hope for the first time since he had ‘woken’ up. It no longer felt as if the evil taint on his soul was consuming him. Looking into Dean’s eyes, he watched as they filled with tears not realizing his own were streaming down his face. Sam realized he could feel Dean inside him, that he could feel himself inside Dean.

Neither one of them spoke, they didn’t need to. Sam had hope, he could feel it. It might have been Dean’s or it might have been his, but it was growing. They ignored the angels leaving in rush of wings. Sinking down together Sam traced the outline of Dean’s face with his fingers. There might have been a glint of gold in Sam’s eyes, a glint that was reflected back in his brother’s. It wasn’t just a part of him, it was a part of both of them now.

Sam knew that Dean would hold him up when he fell and Sam would do the same for Dean. Love, he felt it infusing his bones, where only despair and loneliness had been. He and Dean would face the future, together.

Together.


End file.
